


Abhorrence

by not_rude_ginger



Series: The Andorian Tales [5]
Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Angry Sex, F/M, Graphic Description, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-23
Updated: 2017-09-23
Packaged: 2019-01-04 13:04:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12169446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/not_rude_ginger/pseuds/not_rude_ginger
Summary: T'Pol and Shran are trapped together running from an Andorian’s worst nightmare. Can they get through it together, or will the conflicts of their people keep them from cooperating?





	Abhorrence

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hearts_blood](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hearts_blood/gifts).



> “Quaking need.” from 500 prompts with Shran/T'Pol

“You’re doing it wrong!”

“I am doing it correctly.”

“You’ll damage the roots! You have to dig around them.”

“A sample is not required to be a complete plant.”

“Says who!”

“The Vulcan Science Directory.”

“Oh, you mean the same Directory who insisted that time travel was impossible? How was it being on Earth in 2004?”

Archer chuckled as he and the rest of the bridge staff listened to Shran and T’Pol bicker. They were down on a planet gather samples together of plants and animals. Usually Phlox would have done it, but he was busy with a delicate experiment. Their comm. was kept open, to record anything they found but couldn’t bring along. However it had mostly been a source of entertainment for those listening.

“The Science Directory has conceded that time travel is now possible.” said T’Pol. Her usually emotionless tone was strained, as if she was sorely tempted to smack Shran.

“In other words, they were wrong. Just like you were wrong about your own culture, the capabilities of almost every species you’ve ever met… tell me, have you ever been right about anything?”

Archer shook his head. Shran was much better at dealing with aliens now than he had been, but that did not stop him picking on… everyone.

“It is better to admit one has been wrong than refusing to admit it.”

“Meaning what?”

“I have never heard of the Andorian Government admitting it was wrong in anything.”

“Because my government does what’s right for my people. Just because you don’t like it doesn’t make it wrong.”

There was a soft thud as Trip, who was sitting at his station, dropped his head to the metal.

“Sir?” Travis spoke up, “Why were the commanders sent together again?”

“Because Phlox couldn’t do the study and both Shran and T’Pol wanted to do it.”

“Well, next time Cap’n, please put them on separate hemispheres.” Trip said.

Archer laughed again.

“What are you doing now?” T’Pol had her long-suffering tone in full strength.

“What does it look like? I’m climbing a tree!”

The bridge staff looked around as one to Hoshi’s station. The linguist shrugged.

“Why are you climbing a tree?” T’Pol asked.

“Well, it gets me away from you for one. For another, I can observe animals from a distance from up here. There’s a lake a mile that way. It’s probably a main water source. Animals gather around it and I can see what they do.” For a person climbing a tree, Shran sounded like he was taking a stroll.

“Any chance of a visual?” asked Travis hopefully. Hoshi glanced at Archer who nodded. She keyed in a command and brought up a pretty good image of the two surrounded by plant life. They could make out T’Pol standing at the base of a tree watching Shran skitter up and up, almost like an insect he was so quick. When he was almost at the top Shran straddled a branch and sat with his back against the trunk. He pulled out some binoculars and peered through them.

“Shran to Enterprise.”

“Go ahead Shran.”

“I don’t want you to get excited Captain… but I think I see a two headed dragon.”

Travis immediately looked up with delight. Archer grinned at the idea, “Really?”

“That’s… really the only way to describe them.”

“Them?”

“Looks like a herd. And I see some smaller animals too.”

“Do you think you can get close enough for pictures?”

“I can try.” Shran made a soft ‘Huh!’ as he swung his leg over the branch and started clambering down. He was as quick moving down as he had been going up. He jumped down the last part and landed next to T'Pol. The two grabbed their things and started walking, disappearing under some trees out of the view of Enterprise. Archer just hoped that if there were any surprises in the small forest, they would be able to handle it without issue.

“Sir!” Malcolm had gone from relaxed to very alarmed. “An Orion ship just dropped out of warp. And they’re heading straight for us!”

 

**~*~**

 

Shran stepped over a puddle of mud and had to grab T'Pol’s arm to stop her from stepping it in.

“Stop reading that scanner! Your eyes will do you fine.”

T'Pol lowered the scanner and said, “I am merely ensuring we are not surprised by any predators.”

“Because your ears and my antennae won’t do that at all.” said Shran irritably.

“We have no idea what kind of creatures could exist on this planet.”

“Do not make me steal that scanner from you.” Shran threatened. This was nothing like he had hoped. He had wanted something like his previous experiences with ecological surveys. As an Imperial Guard, his idea of a break was being put on a strange planet and exploring it. It had always been fun on the Kumari, with the crew relaxed and playful. Instead he was stuck working with the Vulcan and feeling exasperated about her scientific approach and if his zhenun, a scientist for the Andorian government, could see him now, she would probably have demanded where her sprog was. “Why don’t you try using your own senses for once! You’ll become even more like a machine if you’re not careful.”

“You’re equating the suppression of emotions with the mechanics of a computer. That is not how it works.”

“It’s the lack of emotions, not the suppression of them that I’m bothered by.” said Shran acidly as he picked up a fruit that seemed to have fallen from the ground.

“Just because your culture somehow manages to function despite the heightened emotions you swing from-”

“Swing from?” Shran snorted, “I could move between emotions at the pace of an atomic particle existing at minus two hundred and seventy and it would still be too quick for you!”

T’Pol’s eyes bugged out very slightly in astonishment and Shran had to look away before he laughed at her. He usually had very little time for science, but if it caught T'Pol off guard and shut her up for a few moments, he would throw it out. Their communicators beeped and Archer’s voice, sounding rather frantic came through.

“Archer to Away Team!”

“Go ahead.” said T'Pol.

“We’re under attack from an Orion vessel. Stay where you are, we’re trying to get a lock on you!”

_Orions?_

Dread spread across Shran’s back like cold fingers and he reflexively looked upwards as if he could see the battle above their heads.

“Understood. Standing by.” T'Pol sounded calm next to him. But then again, she did not have the same worries he did. They waited for a few tense minutes and Shran forced his legs to steady, refusing to give into the instinct to bolt that his species still retained, at least when it came to Orions.

“T'Pol, how far are those caves we saw earlier?” he asked in a low voice.

“About half a kilometre, why?”

“If Enterprise can’t beam us up, we’d better run for them. Remember your scanner couldn’t penetrate into them? The Orions use similar sensor systems. We’ll be able to hide there from their transporters.”

T'Pol looked ready to respond, but Archer’s voice cut her off, “Away team, we’re being forced from the planet, and we can’t get a lock on you. Sit tight, we’ll come back for you.”

Shran swore in high Andori. “We need to run, now!”

“But-”

“Now T'Pol!” Shran grabbed her arm and dragged her back the way they had come. T'Pol was soon matching him for speed, even running ahead of him on her longer legs. They reached the caves in a quarter of time it had taken them to move away from them. As they ran in, Shran felt the faint tingle he associated with a transporter attempt, but it cut short as he went deeper inside. They slowed to a stop and Shran leaned against the wall, panting to catch his breath. T'Pol was also breathing hard as she pulled out a torch from her pack and flicked it on.

“Do you believe the Orions will lose interest now?” she asked. Instinctively Shran looked for that sarcasm all Vulcans used when addressing someone they did not respect, but did not find it. He sighed and pushed away from the wall.

“I doubt it. Realistically there are three possibilities here. One, the Orions spotted a lone ship and decided to raid it for new slaves –but it didn’t sound like that. Two, they’re after Archer, since he’s high on their purple list –a list of wanted individuals that have offended the entire population. In which case, they’ll be chasing Enterprise to get him.”

“And the third option?”

“The third is the least appealing, for us at least.” Shran huffed as he pulled out his torch. “That they drove Enterprise away because their target was already on the planet. That is… me.”

“Why would they be after you?”

“Well, on a basic level, I’m Andorian. On a more significant level, that purple list Archer’s high on? I’m higher. It’s unlikely the Orions are unaware of my presence on Enterprise, and quite frankly I just made myself a sitting target for them when I beamed down onto this planet.”

“That would suggest they were monitoring us.” said T'Pol.

“Probably.”

“So what do you recommend we do?” The Vulcan female arched an eyebrow at Shran and he considered the question.

“We should probably go deeper into the caves. What’s the range on that scanner?”

“The minerals in the rock are interfering with the sensors-”

“Naturally!”

“I am only able to scan within a twenty metre radius. I shall try to improve it but…”

Shran sighed, “It’ll have to do, come, we need to get moving. They’re probably already getting ready to beam down. We need to hide deeper in the caves. Our best hope is to evade them until Enterprise gets back, because trust me, we don’t want them to catch us. You’ll either be killed on sight, or sold off as a slave.”

“And you?”

Shran tightened his grip on his backpack and said quietly, “Doesn’t bear thinking about.”

T'Pol seemed intrigued by his tone, but nothing in this universe would make Shran elaborate. He jerked his head, “Come on. Let’s go.”

The two started to walk into the tunnels at a brisk pace. They were both used to having to slow down for their human colleagues, so after a few moments they were able to walk at a much faster pace than they had become accustomed. The caves went deep into a cliff side and there was a real danger they would get lost.

“If we leave marks on the walls, the Orions will see.” said Shran when T'Pol brought it up.

“If we don’t we won’t be able to find our way out.”

Shran growled in frustration as they stood in one spot. He could almost _feel_ the Orions getting closer and no matter how much he wished for it to be his instinctual paranoia he had been a soldier far too long to pretend he was wrong. “We have to keep moving.”

“I shall make a small mark where they will not notice it, it will at least be something.”

“Oh fine! Just hurry up!” Shran hated how vulnerable he was beginning to feel. T'Pol had no idea what they were dealing with, and if she did it would not affect her the way it did him. He had seen what Orions did to Andorians.

T'Pol crouched down and scratched a small symbol –that IDIC symbol Vulcans loved so much –near the floor of the cave. Shran barely waited for her to straighten up before hurrying on. T'Pol chased after him, and brought him up short when she said,

“I’m detecting lifesigns. They may be humanoid, but beyond that…”

Shran glanced down at the scanner in her hand. “They’re not humans at least, I can tell that much. So we should make sure they don’t catch up with us.”

“And if they are human?”

“Then you and pink-skin can have a good laugh at my paranoia when we’re back on Enterprise.” Shran pushed onwards, stretching his antennae. Growing up in caves, he was used to the subtle differences in the air a tunnel could give off depending on whether it was a dead end or not. They came to a fork and T'Pol’s scanner and Shran’s antennae agreed on the left turn.

“The other life signs are matching our pace.” said T'Pol after what must have been three hours in the caves. “They’ve taken the left tunnel as well.”

“They might be able to track us inside the same as we can. They just can’t get a lock on us to beam us out.”

“Agreed.”

They turned at a bend in the tunnel and came to a sharp stop. It was a dead end.

“But… how…” Panic flared in Shran’s belly, then he looked up and his eyes lit up, “Look!”

T'Pol peered up, pointing her torch upwards. A vertical tunnel stretched above their heads. The faintest change in air pressure told Shran it stretched all the way to the surface. It must have gotten dark, because he could not see a thing beyond the reach of the torchlight.  

“What do you think?” he asked T'Pol, already pulling his backpack off.

“I’m detecting a tunnel that extends horizontally about fifty meters up.”

“Will we fit?”

“It’s much smaller than the tunnels we’ve been passing through, but I believe we would… were we able to reach it.”

Shran looked at her in confusion. “Who says we can’t?”

“We would need climbing equipment-”

“No, you would. I do not.”

T'Pol dropped her hand holding her scanner, “Then what are you suggesting?”

Shran gave her his backpack. “Take this.” To her credit, she did so without comment. As she did Shran looked around the cave walls and selected a prime starting point. He gave her the torch too and pressed his hands on the rock, pulling himself onto the rockface, and climbing a foot upwards. He paused, and said,

“Now, grab on, and don’t let go.”

“You intend to carry me?”

“T'Pol, just do it!”

T'Pol hesitated a moment, then she came up behind Shran and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, then squeezed his waist with her legs as she put all her weight on him. Shran shifted his body to accommodate the change and set to work scaling the wall. It was a bit nerve-wreaking when he reached the roof, as T'Pol would fall straight onto her back if she lost her grip. But he was able to pull them both into the tunnel with minimal problems.

“Mind your head.” he warned. T'Pol tucked her head into the crook of his neck, effectively putting it out of the way. Once in the tunnel it was much easier to climb, although he regretted not taking his boots off before starting. It would have helped somewhat.

“I was unaware Andorians were such adept climbers.” T'Pol said after a few moments of tense silence.

“We’re born with the ability. We spend the first four years clinging on to the fur of our parents. Provided we continually practise when we’re youths, we can usually pull ourselves up any surface. And Guardsmen are trained to be able to do it with two others on their backs. You never know when… well this very situation might arise.” Shran paused to re-establish his grip and pull himself up.

The rock under his hand crumbled and he quickly snatched out for another grip. T'Pol let out a yelp of surprise as the action jarred her grip and she slipped. Shran reacted at once and pushed backward, crushing her against the wall so she would not plummet to the ground thirty metres below. She coughed as the air was forced out of her, but her grip tightened like a vice and they seemed to hang like that for what was only a few seconds but felt like an age.

“Sorry.” Shran grunted, “Are you all right?”

“I am fine.” T'Pol said, her voice shaky.

“Ready to keep going?”

“Yes.”

Shran huffed and, after making sure she was holding on tight, he started to climb again.

“Where are those lifesigns now?” he asked after a long silence. T'Pol held up the scanner in front of their faces.

“Almost directly below us.”

“And how much further to that tunnel?”

“Three metres.”

“Right, I’ll get below it and all you’ll have to do is climb up my back into it.”

T'Pol’s silence suggested that she was not in full agreement about the simplicity of these actions, but there was no time to argue. He could hear the Orions shuffling down below, grunting at each other in that disgusting language of theirs. Shran rushed to climb up the final distance and let out a small bark of triumph when his fingers curled around the lip of the tunnel. He shifted and braced himself in the tunnel, pushing his pelvis back so T'Pol could almost crawl up his back to get into the tunnel. As she knelt on his shoulders, Shran glanced back down and saw the light of the Orions’ torches waving around, before shining straight up at him. After the dim light of a single torch, Shran grimaced as his eyes protested the bright light.

“There they are!” shouted one Orion as T'Pol’s weight left Shran’s back. Shran relaxed his body and flattened it against the rock as the Orions started shooting up the shaft.

“Shran!” T'Pol grabbed his hand and pulled at him. Shran pulled himself up and got his upper body over the lip of the tunnel.

“Ah!” Shran flinched as one of the phase blasts grazed his lower leg. Swearing a streak and with T'Pol’s strong hands pulling at him, Shran was able to scramble inside the tunnel.

“Hold your fire!” one of the Orions ordered. Shran bit his lower lip as he drew his injured leg up and touched it.

“Argh!”

“Don’t move.” T'Pol ordered, pushing his hands away from his leg and examining the injury under the torch light. Shran sucked in deep breaths and tried to block out the pain. “It is not severe, you were grazed.”

Neither of them commented on the fact that Shran had said that to his lover Talas and she had died a day later. They remained where they were for a long moment, listening to their pursuers.

“They can’t stay hidden forever.” one said. Shran’s fingers curled around a rock and wondered if he would get any satisfaction dropping it on one of their heads. The odds were he would miss, and considering how much his leg hurt right at that moment, it would not be worth it. It was only then he noticed just how narrow the new tunnel was. Whereas before they had been able to walk, they would have to crawl down this one, one after another. As it was, T'Pol was almost bent double as she examined his leg.

“How’re we going to get it?” asked the first Orion. Shran was under no delusions that the it they were referring to was anything but himself.

“You two stay here.” said the leader, “We’ll go report in and probably come down from above.”

“That’ll take hours!”

“We’re getting that thing, whatever we have to do. Can’t you smell it?”

A third Orion made an obscene sound that had T'Pol looking up from Shran’s injury in confusion. Shran grimaced. T'Pol could not speak Orion, she had no way of knowing what they were saying, but that noise left nothing to the imagination.

“Smell’s good.”

Shran clenched his hands into fists. He just wanted to jump down the tunnel and slit their throats.

“Come on.” There was the sound of two sets of footsteps moving away, while two Orions remained.

T'Pol looked at Shran, who jerked his head backwards. She nodded, passed him the torch, and helped Shran roll over onto his hands and knees so he could crawl through the tunnel. His leg was burning with pain, it was like he had dipped it in boiling water. They crawled for at least half an hour until T'Pol said,

“We should stop. I need to treat your injury. You’re already at risk of an infection.”

Normally Shran would have protested, insisted he could handle it. But phaser injuries were not something an Andorian could afford to leave. So he sighed and stopped, turning over onto his back and lying down. He took the backpacks from T'Pol and started rooting through them for food and water while T'Pol took a longer look at his injury.

“I’ll need to cut through the material to treat it. But I don’t think we have a knife.”

“What about the clippers you were using to gather plant samples?”

“I’m afraid I dropped them when we were running to the caves. Your urgency indicated that carrying the samples would not be logical.”

“Fair enough. Hang on.” Shran squirmed and reached behind him. He pushed his hand under his shirt and found what he was looking for. “Aha!” He pulled out a slim, flat knife in a sheath. “Here, use this.”

T'Pol arched an eyebrow at him as she accepted the knife. “You still carry weapons with you, even though you are assigned to Enterprise?”

“I’m still an Imperial Guard.” Shran jabbed his finger into his own chest to indicate his uniform. “I would be remiss to not have a few weapons on me at all times.”

“Do you have your Ushaan-tor as well?”

“Of course, I don’t go anywhere without that.” Shran smirked as he thought of his favourite weapon, sheathed in leather and snugly strapped to his back, just to the left of his spinal ridge. After all, what good was he without it?

 

**~*~**

 

T’Pol regarded the Andorian for a moment, then turned her attention to the injury. She would give Shran credit, for as painful as the injury had to be, he had not complained.

“Can you hold the torch? I need both hands to tend to your wound.”

Shran sat up and took the two torches, holding them in one hand. T'Pol was able to see what she was doing as she carefully pulled at the leather of Shran’s uniform trousers. The flesh and material had been burned and almost melted together.

“We might have some anesthetic in the packs.”

Shran shook his head, “No way. I’m not getting drugged when I’m being hunted by Orions.”

“This will be painful.”

Shran gave her a baleful look. “I am aware of that, believe me, however, realistically this is not the worst injury they could have given me, nor is it the worst I have had.”

T'Pol stared at him, and he spread his antennae in a kind of shrug, “From where they were shooting, I’m lucky –very lucky –they missed my crotch, wouldn’t you agree?”

“… Indeed.”

“Besides, compared to a shattered pelvis, this is nothing.”

T'Pol had been bending over the leg when he spoke, now she lifted her head again. Shran gave another antennae wiggle, “Phlox wasn’t joking when he said my medical records is triple that of any other crewmember. Now will you just do what you have to?”

T'Pol nodded and picked up one of the bottles of water Shran had pulled out. Going as quickly and as carefully as she could, she cut through the leather and pulled it away from the skin. Shran growled and tilted his head back in pain, but otherwise made no other complaint. T'Pol determined it might help to distract him.

“How did you shatter your pelvis?”

Shran snorted, “I have no idea. I have theories, but the actual answer… no idea. All I know is I –ah! –I woke up after a ten day drinking binge with some Klingons in a strange forest, naked, with a Klingon female, also naked, snoring in my ear and my pelvis broken in four places.”

Whatever T'Pol had expected, that had not been it. She used some of the small med kit’s cotton to clean the wound.

“If you woke with a Klingon female at your side, would it not be logical to assume you had mated with her?”

“Logical? Yes. Safe? No. You see the female in question was actually meant to be marrying one of the Klingons I was with, in a month… suffice to say, it’s better we don’t actually find out what happened over those ten days… or I’ll have to fight him to the death. Not worth it!”

T'Pol pursed her lips thoughtfully, “That seems logical.”

“No, that seems sane. Logic has nothing to do with it. It was plain self-preservation in the face of a very, very angry friend.”

“Curious.” said T'Pol, now spraying on some antibacterial gel.

“…what?” growled Shran, as if reluctant to find out.

“It is something of a contradiction.”

“What is?”

“You are one of the most overtly xenophobic people I have ever met, and yet you speak of having Klingon friends, you call Captain Archer a friend, and you have mentioned in passing many other associates that are alien…”

Shran snorted loudly, “That’s just the paradox of being self-aware. It’s also the difference between ideology and reality. Ideally I should never trust an alien because I cannot trust that they won’t do what Orions do. But the generalisations don’t bear well under the individualities.”

That had to be one of the most profound statements T'Pol had ever heard him utter. Shran had never been one for philosophical musings. In that way he was very simple. He said what he thought and meant what he said. He was capable of lies, T'Pol knew that, but he rarely employed them in personal interactions.

“I’m hungry.” he stated, fumbling for one of the protein bars. “Want one?”

“I shall eat when I’m done, thank you.”

Shran grunted, and dug into the wrapper. T'Pol decided to not eat hers as she wrapped his leg. The Andorian had a higher metabolism than she did, he would probably need the food more than her.

“So what now? The Orions will be climbing down to reach us in a few hours.”

“We should endeavour to be out of this tunnel by then.”

“Agreed.” Shran spoke with his mouth full, an action T'Pol recalled being instructed not to do as a child. “Once you’ve eaten your portion –don’t think you can get away with not! –we’ll get moving again.”

“You ought to rest for a while.”

Shran shook his head, “I’d rather risk a phase pulse infection than fall into the hands of the Orions.”

T'Pol wondered, once again, just what Orions did to Andorians that had Shran sounding as close to fear as she had ever heard him.

Shran bullied T'Pol into eating her ration, threatening to throw it away if she did not. It would have been a waste, so she did as he asked. They sipped some water, reluctant to run low too soon, and then set off again. They crawled for another two hours before Shran, who was in front, slowed,

“We’re at an opening, stay there, I’ll take a look.”

T'Pol shifted and lay down on her stomach, to ease the ache in her knees. She could make out Shran leaning out of the tunnel, looking around and then drawing back in.

“Well, we may have a problem.” he huffed, sounding as put out as if it were the cave’s fault. “We’ve reached a huge cave, it’s a long way down, an even longer way up and about the same around. So… we have three unappealing choices.”

“Perhaps we ought to rest for a while, my scanner has not detected any other lifesigns.”

Shran agreed and shifted so he was reclining back against the side of the tunnel. T'Pol did the same on the other side, so they could face each other. They sipped some more water and sat quietly weighing their options.

“I can probably carry us both the distance around, or down.” Shran decided finally.

“With your injury?”

“My climbing strength is in my arms, not my legs, I can avoid putting much weight on it.”

“But such actions will no doubt exhaust you.”

Shran grunted, which was practically an all out agreement of his weakness for him. T'Pol considered their chances. “What would we do then?”

“Keep moving.”

T'Pol scanned Shran and a furrow formed between her eyebrows, “Your body temperature is dropping. You may already be fighting an infection. Bearing us both across such a distance will further weaken you.”

“I’m fine.” Shran dismissed.

“You’re infected with a potentially fatal condition. We must do what we have to to reduce the risk of you becoming worse.”

“So what, you just want to wait for the Orions to pounce on us?”

T'Pol thinned her lips, “… no.”

“Good. I would rather die like this than let them catch me, cure me and then do what they do.”

“What do they do?” asked T'Pol, hearing the edge of frustration in her voice. Shran shook his head,

“Not for you to know.”

“You said they can cure you?”

“If they catch me in time, they’ll give me a drug they developed. It’ll kill the infection, but then they’ll have me. I am not going to be trapped by them!”

There was an edge to Shran’s voice that made T'Pol push her own irritability with greater ease. “Why have your people never used this drug if it can cure you?”

“Because the Orions hoard it carefully. And any Andorian it has ever been administered to… doesn’t come home.”

“So how do you know they have it?”

“… we have sources.”

“Perhaps we could allow ourselves to be captured-”

“What part of NO do you not get?”

“If we allow it, we have a greater chance of controlling the situation. We would be able to attempt an escape after you’ve been cured.”

“And just how do you expect us to escape from a heavily guarded cell? Or get off the ship.”

“Enterprise may be badly damaged, or even destroyed. We have no idea when or if we will be rescued. Logically, either the Orions, or your injury will catch up with us.”

Shran was silent and still for a long moment. Then he said quietly,

“If my injury slows us down enough that the Orions will catch us, I want you to unburden yourself of me.”

“You’re asking me to leave you behind?” T’Pol felt her stomach clench at the idea.

“No, no.” Shran reached into T’Pol’s bag, drew out the knife he had given her and held it out to her, handle first. “I want you to stick this in my neck. I will not be their toy.”

T'Pol stared at him, and saw he was absolutely serious. “You’re asking me to kill you.”

“Well deduced.” Shran’s eyes were bright in the torchlight. “Look, we both know if I get too sick, you’ll be able to logic your way out of this, claiming I don’t know what I’m saying. And if it gets to the stage where it is necessary, I’ll be too weak to do it right. So I’m saying now… I’m asking you to do this.”

T'Pol shook her head, “There must be another way.”

“There isn’t. I’m not saying just do it now, I’m not some Klingon demanding assisted suicide at the loss of a battle. I’m asking for you to do the logical and correct thing.”

T'Pol swallowed as she and Shran stared at each other. Shran raised his eyebrows and set the blade down between them.

“Maybe you’ve got more emotions than I thought.” he muttered. T'Pol’s eyes widened and she opened her mouth to protest, but Shran yawned and rolled onto his side. “I’m going to take a nap. Wake me in half an hour –if we have that much time.”

T'Pol closed her mouth and nodded. Shran pillowed his head on his arms and was asleep in seconds. T'Pol swallowed as she stared at him, and wondered if he was starting to look paler already from the infection or if she was allowing the stress of the situation to get to her. She pulled herself up and closed her eyes. While Shran slept, she would meditate on what he had asked of her.

 

**~*~**

 

When T'Pol opened her eyes again, she was aware at once that something was wrong. Shran had shifted in his sleep and was now lying closer to her, not quite touching her, but near enough to feel his body heat. Normally the Andorian was like a furnace, his skin almost radiating heat like the sands on Vulcan at high noon. But now, although still warm, he was not giving off heat the way a healthy Andorian should.

T'Pol picked up her scanner and moved it over Shran’s body, confirming her fears. The infection had begun to attack his immune system. She reached out and shook his shoulder. Shran’s reaction was almost immediate, his hand snapping out and grabbing her wrist, shoving her back against the wall.

“Next time, call my name.” he snarled, “Oh… wanderers, I feel like I’ve drunk too much bad ale.”

“Your wound is infected, like we feared.” said T'Pol quietly, eyeing his paling skin. “You’ll need Phlox to help you.”

“Yes, because he did a great job the last time.” Shran growled as he pulled himself up into a sitting position and sagged forward, antennae drooping. “We need to get moving.”

“You are ill-”

“And if the Orions catch us, I’ll be worse than dead, so there is no question. We’re moving now.” Shran packed away the water bottle and gave the backpacks to T'Pol, who reluctantly pulled them onto her back. It took some manoeuvring but soon they were making their way down to the floor of the cave. Shran felt almost cold through his clothes, though T'Pol knew it was the absence of heat she was feeling. If Shran’s temperature reached the same as a healthy human’s he would be in real danger of dying. But there was nothing she could do. Shran had taken the knife back, but the promise he had tried to wrangle from her was still there.

They were nearly at the bottom when Shran froze, his whole body tensing. T'Pol tried to see his face by bending her neck.

“Shran?”

There was the unmistakable sound of a phaser, T'Pol jerked to the left, her foot caught Shran’s injury and the Andorian’s leg buckled. T'Pol tried to hold on, but her fingers slipped and she fell to the ground.

 

Someone was shaking her hard. T'Pol grimaced as her head gave a painful throb and then she opened her eyes, recalling what had happened. Shran glared at her through the bars of a cage.

“Welcome back.” he growled.

T'Pol gingerly sat up and looked around. She was in a cage, tall enough to stand in, wide enough to cover in three strides. Shran was in another cage, looking almost as pale as an Aenar.

“I assume we were ambushed and abducted.”

“Well done.” sneered Shran, “So, since you were the one who suggested we allow that to happen, why don’t you tell me what’s next?”

T'Pol regarded him carefully, then said, “I see they’ve healed you.”

“I wish they hadn’t.” was the tart reply.

T'Pol got to her feet and peered around. Her fingers brushed her neck and she felt the neural restraint embedded in her skin, like the last time she had found herself in Orion hands. A glance at Shran revealed something surprising.

“You have no implant?”

Shran sighed and kicked at the bars, “The Orions were never able to make them work on Andorians right. Either they killed them outright, rendered them braindead, or just didn’t work. So they just make sure we’re kept under very careful guard.” He pointed at the cage door. It was bolted and locked with a heavy security pad. It would take hours to decode that.

“So what now?” T'Pol asked, leaning on the bars, as she watched him pace. It was not Shran who answered, but another voice.

“Now? Now we wait for an opportunity. Or for the time when they come for us.”

T'Pol looked around, her eyes adjusting more to the gloom of the room. She could make out more narrow cages, each containing a single Andorian.

“We won’t get an opportunity.” said another with a growl. “The Orions know how to guard us.”

“Maybe.” said the first, “But until now… we never had Shran.”

T'Pol looked at Shran who lifted his chin and regarded the first Andorian, a young chan. “What makes you think I’ll make a difference?”

The chan smirked, leaning forward on the bars eagerly, “You are Commander Shran. No cage can hold you. No suicidal mission steadies Death’s shaky grip on you. Everyone in the Guard knows of your imperviousness.”

“I hate to agree with a Private.” growled a zhen, “But he has a point. If anyone has a chance of breaking free…”

T'Pol arched an eyebrow at Shran who seemed embarrassed by their words. They were weighty words. But if there was some truth to them.

“If what you say is true,” she said quietly, “It may be worthwhile to not give voice to his name and skill.”

Shran snorted, “As if the Orions don’t know. They came after Enterprise, and I haven’t seen any humans here. They were after me. There is no secrecy to benefit from here.” He pulled on the bars and ran his fingers over the lock.

“Could your Ushaan-tor help?” asked T'Pol.

“They took it.” growled Shran, “And I will get it back from them. Are there any Actives here?” he called out.

“There are five of us.” said the zhen.

“And the rest are secondaries? Then you know what you must do.” said Shran.

T'Pol narrowed her eyes as the young chan gave a nervous laugh, “But none of us will need to make sure a sacrifice, not now that you’re here.”

Shran did not answer.

The door of the room opened and Orions strode inside. They leered at the Andorians, chuckling as they rattled the cage bars. T'Pol’s own cage was ignored as a tall Orion female strode into the room and surveyed each cage. A seductive smirk crossed her lips and she commanded,

“Bring them.”

The Orions started to push the cages on their wheels out of the cargo bay and down a dark corridor. T'Pol stumbled and held onto the bars as she asked,

“What’s happening?”

“Show time!” the Orion pushing her cage leered.

They were taken into a room that was clean, decorated like a temple from Earth’s Rome and one by one were dumped into a bigger cage, clustered together. The combined heat of the Andorians was almost suffocating to T'Pol as she pushed through them all to find Shran. Shran grabbed her wrist and held it tight as he tried to calm the others, his free arm around the young, trembling chan.

“Calm down, all of you. Secondaries, surround the Actives.”

The orders seemed to ease their distress as they moved to obey, the larger group forming a ring around the smaller one. As they quieted, the Orion female spoke, addressing a crowd of Orions seated on rising steps,

“Welcome to our celebration of beauty, brothers and sisters of truth.”

T'Pol could feel the terror of the Andorians pressing down on all sides and she turned to Shran, hearing the panic in her own voice.

“What is happened?”

Shran spared her a glance, even as he tucked the young chan’s head under his chin. “The Orions consider nothing so beautiful as a broken and ruined Andorian. The sight, the smell, the touch of our telepathy during, it gives them a greater high than anything else. So they make a spectacle of it.”

“They’re going to kill you?” Even at her most controlled, T'Pol doubted she could have contained her horror.

“No. They wish us to live. They do what they do… and then they keep us as ornaments in their grand palaces.” Shran shushed the chan when he whimpered and squeezed T'Pol’s wrist. “Don’t worry, you’ll be safe. It’s us they want.”

“Then why am I here?” she wondered. Shran sighed and looked at her with dark eyes.

“Because we don’t want you here.”

A cheer erupted from the Orion crowd and a guard strode forward and rattled the cage, laughing and leering like a madman as he scanned the group of Andorians. His eyes settled to T'Pol’s left and for a heart stopping second she thought he was looking at Shran. But then, he pointed and said,

“That chan.”

The chan let out a howl of panic and clutched at Shran who held on tight, whispering in his ear as three guards opened the door, forced the Andorians back with some sort of tazering device, while a fourth reached in with big meaty hands and grabbed the chan. The chan screamed and kicked. T'Pol grabbed his arm to help, pulling hard against the strong hands of the Orions.

“Help me!” the chan howled. Shran snarled and hooked his arms under the chan’s armpits and dragged him just enough to whisper something in his ear. The chan stopped screaming and looked up at him, flushed and tearstained. Shran stared straight into his eyes and brushed his lips against his, just before the Orions gave a huge tug and T'Pol lost her grip on the chan and he was out of the cage. T'Pol started forward, not sure what she could do, but then Shran grabbed her, dragged her back and spun her around. He covered her ears and looked straight at her face. The look in his eyes made her freeze and she stared back, trembling in his hands. Shran shook his head and pulled her close.

“Don’t look, don’t listen. If you have any respect for my people, you’ll block it out.”

T'Pol shivered at the danger in his voice, and even though her back was to the terrible spectacle, she closed her eyes and covered her ears with her hands. Shran’s arm was tight around her, but he was focused on what was happening. All the Andorians were, solid and still like statues, their telepathy reaching out to the chan as if trying to offer him comfort. T'Pol could feel the pain they were in at whatever they were watching.

It seemed to go on forever, and the chan’s screams reverberated in her head, even when she tried to block them out by delving into her safe space she went into when she meditated. His pain echoed in her body, in her arms, her legs, and her lower body. The smell of burning flesh stung her nose. She shuddered violently and Shran’s hand passed over her hair to rest on her neck, holding her still. Then suddenly, he was gone and another Andorian was holding her tight, keeping her from seeing something the Andorians hid from themselves. She had no idea what Shran was doing, but she could sense his rage being kept under tight control. Then she felt it snap.

The cage rocked forward and T'Pol was thrown to the floor, gasping as someone stepped on her stomach. Another boot connected with her head and she was surrounded by black.

 

**~*~**

 

T'Pol regained consciousness only moments later, it could not have been longer, because the air was still heavy with body heat, despite the near deathly silence. She rolled over and pushed herself onto her knees, looking around. Her eyes widened as she saw the green blood splattered all over the room, bodies littering the room. The cage door had been left open and she stumbled out, looking around for a weapon. A flash of silver caught her eye and she saw a dagger. It would not be much use against phasers, but it was better than nothing. She picked it up and stepped silently into the ‘theatre’. Bodies lay in contorted positions, throats slit open or heads smashed open. The smell was appalling and T'Pol had to fight the urge to be ill.

A low moan caught her attention and she looked around. What she saw made her clap a hand to her mouth before she could stop herself.

The young chan, or what was left of him, lay on a table. There was so much blue blood all around him it was like some terrible painting. T'Pol could not take her eyes off him, taking in the burnt stumps, the limbs left on the floor after being hacked off, the blood oozing from where his member had been, and from his passage which had been torn open. As T'Pol reached him, he twitched and she stumbled back. Surak, he was alive!

T'Pol inhaled as deep as she could, but she just tasted the stench of what had been done. She extended a trembling hand and touched the chan’s chest. He jerked, spasming and croaking a protest, but T'Pol rubbed her fingers over his chest, trying to offer comfort.

“I will not hurt you.”

The chan blinked and opened his eyes, blearily turning his head to her. Blood stained his mouth so much, she knew he could no longer speak. And T'Pol understood now why Shran had given her the dagger. If this was to have been his fate, the logical course of action was obvious. If the Orions kept them alive after doing this, they were trapping the Andorians inside their own bodies, unable to fight, unable to speak.

T'Pol looked at the dagger in her hand, and then down at the chan. He stared up at her, already half dead from pain. She reached up and touched his brow,

“I will help you.”

With a careful movement she pinched down on his pressure point and his eyes rolled back into his head as he passed out. T'Pol inhaled deeply and raised the dagger.

It was the logical thing to do.

She could feel his pulse under her fingers as she tilted his head back.

It was the logical thing to do.

He was still alive, but he was so cold.

It was the logical thing to do.

T'Pol steadied her grip, and dragged the blade across the chan’s throat. She was not prepared for the amount of blood that erupted from the wound. It spattered her face, her uniform, her hands and she stumbled back, holding the dagger before her.

“T'Pol!”

She turned at Shran’s voice and saw he was covered in green blood, and possibly some entrails. But his presence had never been so welcome. She held out her hands, still clutching the dagger.

“It was the logical thing to do. He… he was beyond help.”

Shran looked at the chan and then back at her. His antennae, which had been bent far back, wilted forward and he approached her carefully, hands out.

“Yes. You did the right thing.” His voice was abnormally kind, as he reached for the dagger and gently took it from her hand. As he did another Andorian rushed into the room,

“We got the last of-” she cut herself off as she saw the scene. “What…?”

She narrowed her eyes, stepping towards the two, “Did that Vulcan-”

“She did what we would have done.” said Shran sharply, not taking his eyes off T'Pol. He grabbed his own sleeve and ripped it down to the elbow, using the material to wipe the excess blood off her hands. “T’Pol? Are you with me?”

T'Pol blinked hard and nodded, “Yes, I am… I am fine.”

“Good, because we need to get this ship to turn around and we could use your help. So I need you to pull up some of that Vulcan suppression, understand?”

“We’re putting our faith in that?” snarled the zhen.

“You put your faith in me!” snapped Shran, “If I say she’s with us, then she is.”

The zhen spat on the floor, and stormed out of the room. Shran glanced after her, then looked back at T'Pol. His face was bright with rage, hatred and strength. But his hands were careful as they cleaned off some of the blood.

“I understand.” said T'Pol in a rush. Shran quirked an antennae forward, his face revealing nothing. “I understand why you hate them so much.”

Shran’s eyes bored into hers and he said quietly, “You have an idea. You do not truly understand though. I wouldn’t want you to.”

“But I-”

“You saw the result, you didn’t see the mutilation.” Shran glanced over her shoulder, then grabbed her by the shoulders and dragged her away from the room. She let him lead her down a corridor and into a small alcove. “Listen to me, are you listening?”

T'Pol swallowed and nodded, resisting the urge to lean against the wall in exhaustion. Shran grabbed her wrist and held it tight, his eyes glittering in the back-up light. “I want you to swear to me that you will not tell anyone what you know now.”

“What?”

“You must swear that you will never tell anyone what you learned here. T'Pol, you have to promise me!”

“I, yes, I swear.” said T'Pol quietly. She was tired, and his emotions were rolling off him so much it was making it hard to think straight. She wanted to retreat somewhere to meditate and get herself under control. Shran regarded her carefully and then drew back,

“Good. Now, come on.”

T'Pol could not understand why she was so weakened and Shran was still going. But as they walked under a light she could see how pale he was, how drained. And she realised he was running on his emotions, nothing else, and would collapse soon if they did not rest. Knowing this, she managed to pull herself together just enough to aid the Andorians in changing the ship’s course and doubling back. The Orion bodies were gathered up and jettisoned out the airlock without ceremony, while the chan’s body… T'Pol did not ask. She focused on her work and ate the food Shran gave her.

They returned to the planet and were relieved to find Enterprise, battle damaged, but intact. The Andorians and T'Pol were transported to Enterprise, and Shran ordered Archer bluntly to blow the ship to pieces. Something in the Andorian’s eyes made Archer not question him.

T'Pol and Shran were examined by Phlox, who treated Shran’s leg properly, and diagnosed T'Pol with a concussion.

“Your neural chemicals are imbalanced… I recognise this.” Phlox lowered his voice even more, “It’s often caused by trauma… specifically mental.” His bright blue eyes were gentle as he looked down at her clothing and her hands, still covered in blue blood. “Is there anything you would like to discuss once things have settled down?”

The chan’s face flashed across T'Pol’s mind, but she shook her head, “No, thank you Doctor. But I just need to meditate.”

“I would recommend at least twelve hours if not more of deep meditation to restore the imbalance, and if you feel any nausea or discomfort, come and see me straight away.”

T'Pol nodded, “I will, thank you.” She glanced at Shran who was lying on his front facing away from her. “Will he be all right?”

Phlox smiled as he looked at the Andorian. “He’ll be fine. If he rests well and eats the right amount of food. He should recover well, although he’ll have a slight limp for a few days.”

“He protected me.” T'Pol said quietly. “From both Orion and Andorian.”

“You are his crew-mate. He would have done no less for any member of this crew.” said Phlox gently. “Now, go and meditate. The sooner you do so, the better.”

 

**~*~**

 

T'Pol did as she was told, retreating to her quarters and meditating. But she found she could not reach the deep level she needed to centre herself. After four hours, she gave up and rose to her feet. She paced at the side of her bed, agitated and uneasy. The chan’s face rose before her and seemed to linger, accusing, angry.

“I did what was logical.” T'Pol murmured, her voice shaking. But it did not remove the image. T'Pol turned and left her quarters, still in her robes, and went to Shran’s door. She pressed the chime several times, unable to keep herself restrained to just once.

Shran opened the door and stepped aside as if he had been expecting her. T'Pol entered and resumed her pacing.

“I am unable to meditate.”

“I’m fine, leg’s all healed up.” said Shran irritably as he sat down on the bed and watched her pace.

“I have been attempting to restore my walls of repression, but I find myself unable to do so.”

“Uh huh…” Shran propped his head up in his hand. “Listen, could you maybe talk to pink-skin, or Trip or Phlox… I would really like to get some sleep.”

His blasé tone made her want to rip his throat out, an unjustified impulse. Clearly she was less in control than she realised as she whirled around and said,

“I believe part of my difficulty lies in the fact that you have placed me in a difficult situation.”

“Me?” Shran looked non-plussed, “What did I do?”

“You have insisted on my silence and it is interfering with my ability to meditate.”

Shran regarded her for a long moment, then spread his hands, “Please talk me through how you came to that conclusion, because if my words are the thing keeping you from rest, there’s more wrong with Vulcans than I ever imagined!”

“You procured an oath from me without giving me time to consider it.”

“If you mean I made you promise not to talk about what you saw on the Orion ship, first of all just say that, and secondly what was there to consider?”

“How keeping silent would affect me.”

Shran’s eyes widened, “You’re a single Vulcan! You really think keeping this a secret is hard on you? My entire culture is incapable of expressing it because if our enemies ever knew about what Orions do to us, they could all start doing it! And we’d never get anyone joining the Guard. Imperial Guards who learn of this are forced to take the same oath of secrecy. Don’t think you’re alone in this, as a Guard, I shouldn’t even be talking to you.”

The Andorian rose as if to open the door, to make her leave. T'Pol reached out and grabbed Shran’s arm, forcing him to move to her.

“What do you expect me to do with this knowledge, these memories?”

“Bury them. Isn’t that what you do?” Shran spat. His face was flushing dark blue, blue blood on the young chan’s face, death so close, yet so far.

“You really believe I care so little?” she asked, pushing away the memory again. Shran grimaced and pulled his arm free.

“Get off!”

T'Pol realised she had been crushing Shran’s arm. She stepped back and sagged a little.

“I’m sorry.”

Shran snorted as he rubbed the pain away.

“I’ve had worse from Vulcans.”

“You speak as if Orions and Vulcans are the same.”

Shran met her eyes and said nothing. Something snapped inside T'Pol and she rushed at Shran, pinning him to the wall by an arm at the neck. “We would never do such a thing!”

“Not that specifically. But you’re capable of equal cruelty and I have seen it.” Shran hissed. This close the Andorian was like a furnace, so unlike the cold body of the chan. His eyes were bright and aware, not dull and empty. His heavy breathing was loud in her ears. He was alive! So very alive. So far away from the young chan.

T'Pol moved her arm from his neck, flatting her hand against the wall by his head. Shran glared at her, eyes flashing when she did not move away. He looked old, and tired. But he was still strong and warm under her body.

“I did what I did to end his pain.” she said, voice strained.

“Yes.” said Shran without hesitation.

“I did what was logical.”

Shran snorted, “You did what was kind.”

T'Pol had no idea if he was trying to insult her or not. She pressed closer, flattening her body against him. His heat, his strength, his life gave her the paradoxical sensation of regaining her equilibrium and losing all control.

T'Pol’s hand slid down the wall to grab Shran’s face, almost digging her fingers into his skin. His antennae reared back, but he remained where he was, eyes burning into her. His heat seemed to curl into her belly, his scent, always strong was almost overpowering. T'Pol surged forward and all but bit Shran’s mouth. Shran growled and bit back, his hands grabbing at her arms, pushing from the wall. T'Pol pushed back, fumbling with his shirt. With a loud rip of material, she achieved her goal. She could feel his pulse rate as it increased, could hear his ragged breathing as he pulled at her robes and tore them too.

They grappled and wrestled as they all but fell onto Shran’s bed nest with a muffled thump. There was no care or consideration for clothing or skin, with teeth biting and hands bruising as they struggled. T'Pol was not sure if she was trying to mate or trying to kill Shran. His rising member indicated he had a much better idea about what he was doing. That must have given him the advantage, because Shran rolled her under him, reared up and flipped her over onto her stomach. He plastered himself against her back and bit at her cheek, pushing his pelvis down between her legs. T'Pol hissed and reached behind her, grabbing for his skin, but he pushed her down and held her tight as he entered her without warning. He was far bigger than a human, and T'Pol cried out in pained surprise. But the pain was thrilling, the pain was blocking out everything else and T'Pol pushed her hips back, demanding more.

Together they set a punishing pace, T'Pol’s head buried in the fur and silk, Shran’s resting on the back of her neck.

The burn was almost too much, T'Pol felt she might explode and then her whole body convulsed and she cried out into the fur and silk. Wave after waved drove her further as Shran bit the curve of her neck as he climaxed.

And then it was over.

T'Pol had never felt as weak and shaken as she did right now, and she could feel Shran trembling next to her as he pulled away and lay on his side, his back to her as he drew in shuddering breaths. T'Pol wiped her sweaty face and wondered if Shran was weeping. She knew the Andorian was unashamed of expressions of emotions, but she doubted he would display such a vulnerable state to her. Shran’s breathing steadied abruptly and he sat up, clambering out of the bed-nest and walking away into his bathroom. T'Pol pushed herself up to her knees and sat back on her heels. Her whole body ached even more now than when she had been on the Orion ship. She could feel bruises starting to form and wondered if she looked like she had just experienced Pon Farr. The thought reminded her that she was an abnormality to her people twice over now. Her first sexual experience with Trip and now her second with Shran. If any other Vulcan ever learnt of it, she would likely be cast out as impure.

Despite the displeasure this realisation caused, T'Pol was surprised at how settled she felt. It was almost as if she had released a building pressure.

The bathroom door slid open and Shran returned carrying a small med-kit.

“I’ll assume you’d rather not go to Phlox for those marks.” he told her coolly. T'Pol shook her head. “Then hold still.”

He was surprisingly careful about treating her bites and bruises. T'Pol could see she had broken the skin in several places with her nails and teeth. They did not speak until he cleared away the dermal regenerator and said,

“Now, do you think you can meditate without issue?”

T'Pol’s eyebrow twitched, but she nodded.

“I would… appreciated it if-”

“You keep my secret, I’ll keep yours Vulcan.” said Shran calmly. His eyes met hers and T'Pol did not see any disdain or contempt. Only a shared certainty that these past few days would never be spoken of, but would remain as a memory between them that they would never be able to sever. So she nodded.

“Good.” Shran tossed the med-kit aside, “Now… how do we get you back to your quarters without anyone seeing you? Especially since your robes… or what’s left of them, aren’t going to give you much cover.”

T'Pol glanced at the mess of material, and sighed. “If I wait until the middle of the night shift, no one is likely to see me.”

“And just what do you expect to do until then?”

“As I understand it, Phlox expects us both to rest. If you’ll allow me to meditate, I will allow you to sleep.”

Shran narrowed his eyes in distaste, but his body seemed to agree with the idea, because he gave a twitching stretch, which was the equivalent of a human yawn.

“Fine. Just don’t wake me when you leave.”

“Agreed.”

They switched places, with T'Pol sitting on the floor and Shran curling up in his bed-nest. Silence filled the dark room, both occupants aware of the company, and accepting it.

**Author's Note:**

> I was originally going to go into far more detail of what Orions do, but I’m not sure what your level of tolerance is and so I decided to be… somewhat vague about it. Hope you’re not too freaked out by it.
> 
> Come and chat with me over at my [tumblr](https://not-rude-ginger.tumblr.com/)


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